


everything (anything)

by lochTenderness (theseourbodies)



Series: what you stand to gain [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Demon Iwaizumi Hajime, Demon Summoning, Tooru plays his whole life on hard mode except not on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness
Summary: Oikawa Tooru, cut off from the sport he loved by injury and desperate, still finds it harder than expected to take advantage of a power he sold his soul to get.(or, demon iwa gets summoned by a really troublesome guy.)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Series: what you stand to gain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141379
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	everything (anything)

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional/Expanded Warnings:** Oikawa struggles with chronic pain due to knee and rotator cuff injury; this pain is briefly discussed and then magically removed/fixed by an outside, supernatural force, which may be triggering. Demon Iwaizumi usually wears illusion/glamour that shifts/disappears at times throughout the story. No rituals are depicted in this text, but that is subject to change with anything else I write in this AU. 
> 
> (Anyway, close-talker Iwaizumi supremacy, send tweet)

“Well, everyone, that’s my two cents,” Tooru says to the collected student council. He can see in their faces that they already agree with him; the issue they’ve been arguing about since lunch started has finally been put to bed. He’s careful not to sigh in relief too obviously, taking another careful bite of greens. 

When the committee meeting breaks up, Tooru waves off a chorus of ‘Thank you Tooru-kun!’s and ‘Thanks, Oikawa!’s with a genuine grin. He loves it when everything goes as it should, especially when it means that everyone ends up happy. He takes his time packing up his lunch, humming to himself. As he works he can almost—almost—trick himself into thinking that he’s been left all alone when it’s quiet like this. 

Of course, Tooru’s never been able to fool himself like he can fool other people. 

“Did you do that on purpose?” asks a disembodied voice from the corner of the classroom. 

Oikawa refuses to jump. He packs his lunchbox back together a steadily as he had been before Hajime had spoken. “Hm?” 

“Did you just manipulate that situation on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?” 

Tooru blinks over at his one-man peanut gallery. There was blunt and then there was Hajime. “It... wasn’t not on purpose. Clever, to see that.” 

“Not especially,” Hajime huffs. He appears in the corner of the room suddenly, frowning; it’s not a bad look, even with the fangs poking up against his top lip, Tooru notes idly. “How did they not notice?” 

“It’s not really--” Tooru sighs, because yes, actually it _was_ manipulation _,_ and if Tooru can’t be honest with his very own demon familiar, who _can_ he be honest with? “I don’t like talking about it like that. I just gave everyone what they needed.” 

“By convincing them that they didn’t actually want what they wanted.” 

Tooru shrugs, slumping back against his chair. “They were all happy in the end. Isn’t that enough?” 

Hajime cocks his head as he thinks that through. Tooru manfully doesn’t say the first three meathead jokes that come to mind and stays silent. In the shelter of the corner, only half tucked behind the glamour, Hajime looks almost like a regular school kid with an unfortunate underbite and sharper than usual teeth. 

“Is it enough for you?” Hajime finally asks. 

Tooru doesn’t have an answer for him, and before he can say anything else, the warning bell rings through the building; they need to get back to class. God forbid the glamour-soaked demon Tooru’s been saddled with misses their next maths lesson. 

☽✶☾ 

Hajime at least waits to talk to him about it again until they’re walking back home after school. Or, Tooru walks home; he hasn’t gotten a clear answer out of Hajime about where he goes when Tooru finally passes out most nights. 

“You know, if it’s me that’s the problem we can make another arrangement, Oikawa.” 

Tooru glances at him, still walking along. “Hm?” 

“If you’re not happy with what you received, you should say something. We’re not in the business of collecting miserable souls.” Hajime says, leaning forward as he moves to catch Tooru’s eye squarely. 

“No,” Tooru says at length. He’s staring; he can’t help it. Hajime almost sounds concerned. “And besides, isn’t it kind of a bonus, if I’m miserable with my blood-sworn familiar?” 

Hajime snorts, his lip pulling up in a sneer. While his glamour is fully intact now that they might run into people at random, his teeth still look just slightly too sharp. “This isn’t a damn morality play, Oikawa. I don’t give a shit about whatever poetic punishment you feel like you’re suffering through. Hey--” he drags Tooru to a stop with a hand wrapped tightly around Tooru’s arm; Tooru gasps at the touch, hot even through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. 

“We’ve already taken the payment up front, Oikawa Tooru,” Hajime says when he pulls Tooru around to face him. His voice... it echoes around the shape of Tooru’s name as he says it, like he and many other people are saying his name at once. Tooru shivers for an entirely different reason, feeling suddenly small. “You cannot live forever, but I can give you the longest possible human life. You will never suffer; you do not have to age. And at the end of this lifetime of godlike possibility, you will suffer one hundred thousand lifetimes of suffering that you cannot possibly imagine. The worst pain you have ever felt, multiplied one hundred times, over eons.” In the natural shade of the treeline they’re walking along, Hajime’s compact body blurs at the edges. His pupils fade, and the color in his iris bleeds irregularly into the whites of his eyes. Tooru’s head throbs; his heart races frantically in his chest, but he cannot do more than turn his head. His eyes remain stuck to Hajime’s. “I’m not interested in tricking you, Oikawa. I already have what I want, but we keep our bargains. That suffering is a hundred years from now, longer if you wish it. I have no interest in the time it takes you to live a full enough life. In the end, you’re still _mine.”_

Forget shivers; Tooru is shaking violently now, overwhelmed, breathless. But somewhere in the gibbering fear crashing into his mind in waves, he realizes that he’s listening. He’s hearing what Hajime is saying. 

“So, if you’re not happy with me, you need to tell me,” Hajime tells him with finality. “But if you’re just interested in punishing yourself, you might as well give yourself something to feel bad about. Ask me for something, Oikawa.” Hajime’s image settles again, the strange alien shape of him abruptly swept behind the already-familiar illusion of a sharp faced boy, just Tooru’s age. “I’ll give it to you. It would be my genuine pleasure to give it to you.” 

Tooru looks for words to answer. He swallows, trying to wet his aching throat. It feels like he’s been screaming for hours, like he’s been swallowing sand. 

Hajime makes an also familiar annoyed noise and shoves a water bottle into Tooru’s hand. Tooru hasn’t looked away from him; he doesn’t see Hajime even pretend to reach into his bag for anything. He still pops the cap and drinks greedily. Hajime still hasn’t let go of him, and Tooru finds that he’s less bothered by that than he should be. 

Tooru thinks, possibly for the first time, about what it really means to have Hajime here, with him. He thinks about what he could have, if he just thinks to ask. Almost immediately, he has at least one answer. He drags in a shaking breath. 

“I don’t want to be in pain, anymore,” he whispers, barely opening his mouth. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want to wake up and be careful when he rolls off his futon, when he shuffles to the bathroom, when he walks, when he takes off his damn _shoes._ He doesn’t want to ever, _ever_ see his PT ever again. He wants to play volleyball—Tooru almost gasps out loud, realizing finally, finally what he can ask for, what he can _have_. 

Hajime _whoops_ and grabs Tooru by the waist to bodily lift him right up onto the low wall they’ve been walking beside. He’s close, so close, one powerful hand grabbing Tooru by the shoulder, the other clenching almost brutally around Tooru’s surgery-scarred knee. Tooru really does gasp, too startled to flail, to do anything but grab Hajime’s wrists and stare down into Hajime’s wild grin. Then, suddenly-- 

_“Done,”_ Hajime hisses—Tooru doesn’t know when his face got so close to Tooru’s, he doesn’t know who moved first, but he isn’t angry about it. He isn’t at all angry. 

_“_ Done?” Tooru asks blankly, not understanding; Hajime still hasn’t let him go, but he steps back just one step and Tooru realizes what this means. “Done?” he asks again, voice shaking. 

Hajime nods firmly. His smile is smaller now, less feral, but Tooru still likes it. “I told you, Oikawa. I know how long you thought about this, about me. You know the rules better than any other summoner I’ve ever seen; you already know how to ask so that I can’t say no, so. Anything you want.” 

Tooru shakes himself out of his stupor. Clutching to regain some control over himself and his situation, he hops down from the wall and sinks immediately into a low sideways lunge. His hand almost goes to his knee, as if he can physically prevent any impending pain from the outside. It’s a useless effort normally, but-- he stops himself. Nothing pinches. Nothing aches, sharply or otherwise. Nothing _hurts._ He stands straight again, heart pounding. He links his fingers together, turns his elbows out, and pushes his palms skyward. _Nothing._ He rolls his shoulders; his extension is _incredible,_ it _feels_ incredible. There isn’t even a hint of the old tightness. Dropping his hands to his hips he lowers his head. He can’t tell what’s building in his chest—tears, or laughter. 

“I think,” he chokes. Tears, then. “If we have this whole lifetime together, Hajime should just call me Tooru.” 

“Whatever you like,” Hajime answers, easy as breathing. When Tooru glances at him through watery eyes, he’s grinning with all his too-sharp teeth. It is not nearly as threatening as Tooru thinks it ought to be. “I’ll be in your care, Tooru.” 

**Author's Note:**

> a certain artist on twt always draws iwa with THE SHARPEST CHOMPERS so this is a tribute to that. PLUS, bigger, lower-jaw fangs are cute, you cannot change my mind.
> 
> Also I never see demon!Iwa stuff, so drop some recommendations for me in the comments/in my DMs: [@theseourbodies](https://twitter.com/theseourbodies)


End file.
